


Walkin' Through This World Alone

by Batsutousai



Series: Interaction [1]
Category: British Actor RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Marvel Avengers Movies Universe, The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Cutting, Depression, Drug Use, Eating Disorders, M/M, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:08:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Batsutousai/pseuds/Batsutousai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"Loki Odinson, you are hereby sentenced to Midgard for one hundred full rotations around its sun. For one hundred rotations, you will be unable to interact with any mortal; they will not see you, nor hear you, nor touch you. You will be as a ghost, corporeal, but without being. Until you have learned truly the duties you owe those of other realms as Prince of Asgard, you will be unable to access your magic, as powerless as the mortals you walk among."</i><br/>Loki's punishment for his crimes left him in a living hell on Earth, where no one knew he existed.<br/>Until, one day, someone did.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walkin' Through This World Alone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AislingSiobhan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AislingSiobhan/gifts).



> **Disclaim Her:** This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by Marvel. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. The characters of Thomas "Tom" Hiddleston and Chris Hemsworth are based on real people, and no offence is intended; this is only for the amusement of myself and other like-minded (read: mentally ill) fans.
> 
> **A/N:** I should feel more shame for this travesty than I do.  
>  All the blame _and_ all the love to Aisling Siobhan, to whom I made passing mention of the idea for this, and she spent the next month – two months? – pestering me to write it. Also, major love and cuddles to Nimohtar, who agreed to beta even though she sort of went O.o when I said I was writing RPF.
> 
> So, I feel like I got Loki fairly well, but my Tom is so much less awesome than the real thing. (Like I could _ever_ capture the real thing in fanfic. ^.^") I'm saying my Tom is based more off the Tom of [loki-and-the-loon's](http://www.loki-and-the-loon.tumblr.com/) [comics](http://www.loki-and-the-loon.tumblr.com/tagged/comic), who is more adorable and less ridiculously wordy and painfully clever. Adorable I can do, clever less so.
> 
> Note that most of the things in the warnings are largely glossed over, but they DO show up. So, you know, warnings. Look at them. Read them over. (Self harm and alcohol abuse are the only ones that show up more than once, fyi.)  
> And the Loki feels just sort of...spew. Do you have tissues? You might want tissues.

_He stands, gagged and bound, before the throne, Thor at his shoulder. Above them, Odin has sat through Thor's retelling of events – as though the Allfather hadn't already heard everything from his ravens and Heimdall – his expression blank while the court shifted around them, making the appropriate noises at his varied crimes against the Midgardians._

_Thor is silent now and the whispers have begun, the suggestions no one would dare to share with their ruler over what to do with the monster he'd so long kept under his own roof. Were it a member of another family, were he owned by any other person in Asgard, the court would not keep their voices lowered, would be shouting accusations and vitriol at him. But he was Odin Allfather's ward, and no one would suggest their king incapable of declaring the needed punishment._

_Odin allows the whispers, as though awaiting some brave soul to suggest a punishment, or deciding one himself. But he'd known what punishment he would hand down before Thor had led the way in, Tesseract clutched in one hand, Mjölnir in the other._

_Odin stands, a sign for silence, and mouths click shut the room over. They meet eyes – two green to a single blue – and the Allfather announces, "Loki Odinson, you are hereby sentenced to Midgard for one hundred full rotations around its sun."_

_The court roars its disapproval: Sentenced to Midgard? Where his violence had been wrought? What would that prove?_

_Odin slams the butt of Gungnir against the floor and the voices fall again to silence, far less pleased this time. "For one hundred rotations, you will be unable to interact with any mortal; they will not see you, nor hear you, nor touch you. You will be as a ghost, corporeal, but without being."_

_Approval meets this declaration, but Odin isn't done._

_"Until you have learned truly the duties you owe those of other realms as Prince of Asgard, you will be unable to access your magic, as powerless as the mortals you walk among."_

_The court roars, gleeful at these restrictions._

_Odin slams Gungnir against the floor again, but it's not a call for silence, it's a sign of his verdict being handed down, and the court only gets louder as Odin roars, "Loki Odinson, I banish you from Asgard!"_

-0-

Loki's first year on Midgard had been spent raging against his punishment. He'd tried to attack any mortal he came across, but Odin's spells disallowed him from touching a one of them, and they ducked his hands without even realising they were doing so. Held and thrown weapons, both, saw similar results, and screaming in their faces did naught but make Loki's throat grow hoarse.

Loki's second year had involved a lot of pleading to the Allfather. Apologies that became less and less dipped in silver the longer he cried them to the skies. There was never any response, though he knew Heimdall could hear him, could see him, because Odin had specified that only _mortals_ couldn't interact with him. Right?

For Loki's third year, he lost himself in a haze of depression. Taking a knife to his skin was the only way he could prove he still existed, wasn't just living in a dream. The pain steadied him and left behind splatters of blood that he could see the next day, could rub his fingers over and marvel that they left a mark, when he was little better than a ghost; mortals saw the blood, would sometimes look around for the person who was wounded, but Loki still didn't exist to them and he laughed through tears as they walked right past him in an attempt to get him to hospital.

During the fourth year, Loki stopped eating or bathing. If no one could see him, what did it matter? He lost so much weight that his fine clothing hung off his shoulders, and when the metal plating and leathers grew too heavy, Loki stripped them off and left them behind, uncaring as he stepped naked through crowds of mortals, feet bloodied from where they dragged over concrete.

In his fifth year, Loki slit his own throat. He breathed on and it took two weeks to heal up, natural healing slow from his malnutrition. Next, he got his hands on bottles of unknown medicines and overdosed so badly he was left a shaking, retching mess for days as his body expelled the toxins. He tried digging out his heart, then, but it beat on in his hand and he screamed through tears because he was in hell, and there was no escape.

Loki barely remembered his sixth and seventh years, covered in the haze of marijuana and alcohol as they were. He remembered the desperation that had met him when the people he'd been stealing his supply from moved on – suspicious of their missing stock – remembered trying everything he could get his hands on, getting drunk out of his mind a couple times because that was easy.

A month into his eighth year, he finally pulled himself together – helped by his body's natural healing capabilities bypassing most of the drugs he shoved into it at long last – and started wandering cities again, bruises under his eyes and skin blistering under the summer sun. He stole a hat with a wide brim, then a pair of shoes, a shirt, some trousers, and he finally had clothing again, for the first time in years. Though, still, no one could see him, but he'd needed the protection. He remembered what it was like to live, to consume food instead of drugs and whatever happened to come to hand in the alleyways he'd spent his last few years in.

At the end of his eighth year, he started to wonder about SHIELD, about the Avengers and why he hadn't seen Thor. Because for all that Odin had banished him to Midgard, surely Thor wouldn't have sat by while Loki lost himself. Surely Thor would have come looking, at least once? (Though Loki was glad his brother – not-brother? It was so hard to hate him when he was alone – had not seen him so low, hadn't been there when Loki had tried so hard to kill himself, because Thor would have cried, and Loki hated it when Thor was reduced to tears.)

Loki went to New York City, looking for Stark's ridiculous tower, but it wasn't there. In fact, the entire skyline of the city was off, with two tall building sticking out like sore thumbs next to each other where none had been before. He stared at them in disbelief for a long moment before shaking his head and going in search of a library; two buildings being built during the last eight years would be noted somewhere. He hoped.

There was nothing about new buildings, but he did happen across the date – May 21st, 1991 – on the day's paper that someone had failed to bin.

_'I'm twenty-one years in the past?'_ Loki realised, staring down at the paper numbly. But Odin had no powers of time, not that Loki had known of – and Loki _would_ have known, because magic was his forte as much as physical strength was Thor's – so how was Loki–?

_'Oh.'_ Loki tossed the paper into a bin and kept on, looking around him with new eyes; Odin couldn't affect time, but he _could_ affect reality, should he care to strain his powers so much. Loki had been cast into an alternate reality, where Thor couldn't come and keep him company like he would have preferred, where SHIELD wouldn't discover a way to track him in spite of Odin's spells keeping him apart.

Loki was more alone than he'd ever been.

"Well then," he said to himself out loud, voice rough because he rarely bothered to speak when no one could hear him. "Ninety-one years and some change to pass, only so much to be wasted with drugs." He laughed. "And no one to stop me."

No one to stop him.

Loki smirked a bit, cracked his knuckles, and looked for mischief.

-0-

Loki spent the next twenty years and some change doing whatever he wanted. It was a lot of fun, and often ended in tears – frustration or upset for the mortals, laughter for him – and something being broken. He never stayed in one place too long, didn't want the mortals to get used to his pranks, and he learned how to manage various forms of public transport – not hard, when you were invisible – so he didn't have to walk so much. He picked out new clothing, too, keeping up with current fashions even though no one would see him except himself.

But there were days – weeks, sometimes even months – where he would again find himself sinking into depression. He would drink, then, losing himself and his loneliness in a bottle, or find something sharp to cause himself pain, to leave those bloody marks behind on pavement and the sides of buildings that screamed, ' _I was here!_ ' loud enough that the mortals could actually hear him, when they cared.

It was one such week, walking listlessly through another city full of people that didn't know he existed, when someone crashed into him and Loki fell back to the pavement with a groan.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm so sorry!" the person – male, Loki recognised – hurried to babble. "Oh my God, are you okay? Here."

A hand was held down, in front of Loki's face, and he stared at it in disbelief for a moment before looking up at the one who'd run into him. "You can s..." Loki trailed off as he took in the familiar features above him, like looking into a mirror twisted with shorter hair and eyes just a hint more blue. "Who are you?" he demanded, smacking the hand away and climbing to his feet without assistance.

"Tom...Hiddleston...?" the mortal replied uncertainly, taking in the same similarities that Loki had. "You look–"

Loki grabbed the mortal's chin, both to get a better look and to see if he could. And he _could_. "You can see me," he said, and it wasn't a question.

The mortal winced and grabbed at the hand on his chin. "Yes. Ow. Let me go? I'm sorry I bumped into you, really–"

"Silence," Loki ordered, gentling his grip on the mortal's chin.

The mortal didn't remove his hand from Loki's, but he didn't try to stop him while Loki turned his head, either. Eventually, though, he said, "Can I– Is it okay if I go? I'm supposed to–"

"Silence," Loki ordered again.

The mortal's hand tightened around Loki's and he pulled Loki's hand off his chin, frowning. "Look, I'm sorry I knocked you over and all–"

"I don't care about that," Loki snapped, scowling right back at the frown. "You have my face. You can _see_ me!"

"Of _course_ I can see you!" the mortal snapped back. "You're _right here_!"

" _They_ can't!" Loki insisted, pointing at the people passing them. People who were looking at the mortal a bit oddly for shouting at empty air about how he could see it.

"Of _course_ they...can..." The mortal trailed off as he looked around, finally noticing the odd looks, the way no one was looking at Loki, even though he'd been yelling. "Who are you?" he asked, looking back, and there was an odd note to his voice, as though he was afraid he knew, but needed to be proved wrong.

"Loki, God of Mischief and Lies," Loki informed him, cocking his head haughtily.

The mortal blinked. "Uhm."

Loki narrowed his eyes. "I am a _god_ you pathetic creature," he snarled.

"Okay," the mortal replied and shook his head. "I'm dreaming. This is all a dream and I'm going to–"

Loki kicked the mortal's shin.

"Ow! Ow, ow, ow." The mortal leaned down and rubbed at his shin.

"Much better," Loki decided, smirking down at the mortal's faux bow.

The mortal glanced up at him, frowning, then nodded and moved away, walking with a slight limp.

"Wait!" Loki spun and hurried after the mortal. "I didn't say you could leave!" he snapped once he caught up.

"I don't make a habit of listening to my hallucinations," the mortal replied. Then, "Why am I talking to an hallucination?"

"I'm no hallucination!"

"That's what hallucinations always say."

Loki fell back, then, letting the mortal keep on ahead of him. The first person to see him in almost thirty years, and the man had decided he was hallucinating. Good. Great.

"I hate mortals," Loki whispered and went in search of alcohol.

-0-

"Hey. What are you– Loki, you can't sleep out here."

Loki curled into a tighter ball around the last of his stolen bottles, trying to ignore the persistent voice.

"Loki." A sigh, then there were hands on his shoulders. "Come on. Get– Is that blood? Hey! Are you hurt?"

"Go away," Loki muttered, shoving at the person pestering him. His bottle clattered to the ground, rolling a few centimetres before knocking against the line of other empty bottles, the dregs of unfinished liquor sloshing inside.

"I'm not going away," the voice insisted. "What have you been doing, drinking in an alley all day? Hey..." The person trailed off and Loki peeked through bleary eyes to find the mortal from earlier, dark hair haloed against the light of the sinking sun, holding the glass shard crusted with Loki's blood that he'd been using before he'd passed out earlier. "Loki..." the mortal breathed, a world of sorrow in his voice, and he felt along Loki's forearms, letting out a heavy breath when he found the healing scabs. "God. No. No, come on. Get up. Up."

Loki stumbled as the mortal dragged him up, almost sending both of them back to the ground, but the mortal caught him with a groan and steadied him. "A _way_ ," Loki ordered, shoving at the mortal.

"No," the mortal replied, unflinching, and wrapped a steadying arm around Loki's waist. "One foot in front of the other. Come on."

Loki growled in irritation, but he was too tired and hung over to bother fighting the persistent mortal. He still retained too much pride to let himself be dragged, so he struggled along, managing to support enough of his own weight to make it seem as though he wasn't useless.

The mortal brought them to a large building that Loki had walked past a few times without caring about it one way or another, as he did with most buildings when he wasn't looking for mischief. Inside was clean and sparkling, fake plants accenting mirror-lined walls, a gaudy chandelier hanging over it all. The mortal walked them past everything without a glance, pressing a button between closed silver doors.

"You still with me?"

"Be silent," Loki growled, his head throbbing with the reminder of his bender. Usually, after consuming that much alcohol, Loki would either curl up in a dark corner and curse himself, or hunt down another bottle in a dirty bar and drink until it didn't hurt any more. _Never_ would he have stumbled into this brightly lit room with this obnoxious mortal speaking in his ear. _'At least he's keeping his voice down,'_ Loki allowed. But only to himself.

One of the silver doors fell open with a chime and the mortal led them into the lift car. Loki rested against one of the walls, rubbing at the ache of his head, while the car rose, the mortal standing uncertain and radiating concern at his side. When they stopped, the mortal again steadied Loki with an arm around his waist and helped him down a hall of closed doors, finally stopping in front of one.

It took a moment for the mortal to get the door open, using one arm to support Loki as he was, but he managed and let them both inside a room lit only by the city lights through opened curtains. "Bathroom," he directed and pushed Loki towards a dark doorway. "I'll get you something else to wear; take a shower."

"Don't need a shower," Loki muttered petulantly.

"I can smell you from here," the mortal returned from near the bed, where he was turning on the smaller lights.

Loki sneered, but set about to take a shower; he _could_ use one, he knew, and it might help clear his head enough to deal with this mortal.

When Loki got out, there were some pyjamas left on the toilet lid and the clothing he'd been wearing for the past few weeks had vanished. Loki scowled – he'd _liked_ those trousers – but changed into the offered clothing. They fit a little loosely, because Loki hadn't really been eating of late, but they were surprisingly comfortable and he walked out of the bathroom feeling a little uncertain and a lot suspicious.

The mortal was sitting on the bed with a laptop open in his lap and a rolling cart to one side. "I thought I was an hallucination," Loki called to him.

The mortal glanced up. "Yeah... Still not sure you're not," he admitted, then pointed at the cart. "Food."

"I'm not hungry."

"You're thinner than I am," the mortal insisted. "That's...sad. Really sad. And not healthy. And I'm telling the god of mischief he's not healthy. This film is going to kill me." He shook his head and looked back down at his laptop. "Eat it. Prove I'm not hallucinating you."

Loki scowled and considered just ignoring the mortal – what did _he_ care if some fool Midgardian thought he was going crazy? – but he could smell the roast, and his stomach was making pathetically hopeful sounds. And it _had_ been a while since he'd cared to eat something other than a bag of crisps or a small child's ice cream (which had been delicious). So he shuffled over and pulled off the cover. He caught a smile on the mortal's face and considered slamming the cover back on the food and insisting it wasn't to his liking, but his stomach voiced its thoughts on the matter and he resigned himself to pleasing the annoying man.

The roast and beans were wonderful – a taste of home that he couldn't get, stealing food from street carts and fast food restaurants as he usually did – and the mashed potatoes weren't quite to his standards, but they weren't greasy chips, either. There were two plates of chocolate cake and he eyed them for a moment before the mortal leaned around him and took one. "Forgot about that," he said, taking a fork with his free hand, then scrambling to keep his laptop from falling to the floor and almost dropping the cake in the process.

Loki snorted, always amused by another's trouble, then picked up the fork he'd used for his dinner and tried the cake. It wasn't bad, he decided.

"So, why were you drunk in an alley?" the mortal asked.

"None of your business," Loki snarled, hunching over his small plate, as though to protect the last couple forkfuls from any thieves.

"I fed you," the mortal pointed out.

"I didn't ask you to drag me along," Loki returned.

The mortal eyed him for a moment before shrugging. "Fair enough. Why can't anyone else see you? I mean, you're a god, right? They could see you if you wanted them to."

"What says I couldn't let them see me if I felt like it?"

The mortal sighed. "Loki, you got angry because I was leaving. And then I found you pissed in an alley with cuts on your arm."

"It's of no concern to–"

"I'll kick you out."

Loki was so tempted to call him on that bluff – this _was_ the mortal who'd decided Loki was an hallucination, then come back and got him food – but he was tired of being alone, so damn _tired_. "This is my punishment," he allowed. "I brought an army down on Midgard, so Odin left me here without the ability to interact with mortals."

"Odin is a crap father," the mortal said without apparently thinking about it and Loki fought back a smile. "Wait. But, there was never a portal opened over Manhattan. That's just...we're filming that. But it never happened."

"Filming?"

The mortal shrugged. "I'm an actor. We're working on a film where you open a portal over Manhattan, using the Tesseract, and let the Chitauri through to wreck havoc. But the Avengers–"

"Stopped me," Loki said for him and the mortal nodded, frowning. "For me, these events occurred twenty-nine of your years ago, but not in this world. Not in this _version_ of your world."

"You're talking alternate universes," the mortal said and Loki shrugged. "Wait. Twenty-nine _years_? You've been on Earth, all alone, for twenty-nine–"

"Yes."

The mortal stared at him for a long moment before he set his laptop and empty plate to one side and hugged Loki.

"Get _off_ me, you... _leech_!" Loki ordered, shoving at the human's arms around his chest.

"Can't. Stuck."

"Off! Get– I do not want you touching me. Let go. Right now. I will push you out a window."

The mortal hid his face against Loki's shoulder and laughed, but he didn't let go and Loki finally gave up on making him, resigned to the contact. And as much as it irritated him, being clung to, it was also wonderful after so long without and he found himself leaning against the mortal.

The mortal shifted until he was sitting against Loki's back, his thighs pressing against Loki's hips. "I'm sorry," the mortal whispered. "I won't kick you out. Ever."

"You may regret that," Loki insisted to combat the block in his throat, the tears in his eyes.

"No one deserves to be alone," the mortal replied, "no matter what they've done; what _you've_ done."

That was all it took and Loki found himself sobbing, curled against this stupid, nonsensical mortal who wore his face and could see him, could _touch_ him. Loki grabbed for the arms wrapped around his chest, clutched them like he was afraid that, at any moment, they were going to vanish into nothing. Because if either of them should be thinking this was a dream, an hallucination, it was him. This wasn't supposed to be happening, but it _was_ , and Loki was waiting for it to slip away, for whatever drug he took this time to wear off and this whole moment to just have never existed.

"I've got you," the mortal promised. "It's okay, Loki. It's okay."

When Loki finally quieted his sobs, feeling hollow and pathetic, the mortal was still holding him and when Loki looked back at him, he saw thin rivets of tear tracks on his face and a sad smile. "Tired?" the mortal asked and Loki nodded. "Let me push the cart out in the hall," he said and pulled away.

Loki felt this terrible sense of loss, but he shook himself and tried to ignore it while the mortal picked up his small plate and put it on the cart before pushing it out into the hallway. He locked the door, then returned to the bed, setting his laptop to one side. "Come on," he directed, lifting the covers.

"You expect me to sleep with you?" Loki demanded, wrapping his mantle of godhood around him and glaring at the mortal in spite of the marks of his breakdown written all over his face.

"Yes. Come on."

Loki let out an irritated sigh, but slipped under the covers and curled up on one side of the bed, which was plenty large enough for two people. But still, gods didn't share.

The mortal turned out the light next to him, then slid under the covers himself. He shifted closed to Loki and draped an arm over his side.

"Get off me."

"No."

"Now."

"Go to sleep, Loki."

"I mean it."

"Shut up."

Loki huffed and closed his eyes to sleep, deciding to just ignore the stupid mortal.

-0-

Loki woke, oddly warm and comfortable. The now-familiar sounds of late-night/early-morning traffic were strangely distant, like the month he'd spent squatting in a condemned building before they took machines to it, and he frowned before squinting open one eye, prepared for the rush of sunlight or streetlamps that no walls could completely block, in his experience.

There was no light, only a white pillow under his head and shadowed beige walls across from him, painted in a red glow.

Loki sat up with a start and stared around the hotel room in disbelief. _'It was real? Everything was–'_

The bed shifted under Loki and a sleepy groan came from the mortal that had dragged Loki back with him last night. "Wha'sa time?" he mumbled, fumbling at a table, upon which was a black box with bright red numbers. "One thirty?" The mortal groaned and covered his eyes with one hand. " _Sleep_ ," he insisted, tugging blindly at Loki's shirt.

Loki let himself be dragged back down onto the soft pillows, the mortal curling up against him and falling back to sleep. Loki was too awake – too torn in a million different directions by emotions he'd thought long-dulled – to try falling back asleep, so he settled in to organise his thoughts while the mortal breathed deeply at his side.

There was a mortal who could see Loki, who could interact with him, though no mortal should be able to. This mortal knew what he'd done – or a variation of the events – and forgave him for reasons Loki wasn't completely clear on. This mortal had dragged Loki back to his hotel, upset over the state he'd found the god in, and fed him, though Loki had tried to get him to leave him alone. This mortal wanted to remain in Loki's life – and why should he not wish to remain with a god? – and had sworn not to leave Loki alone.

This mortal had a name, and Loki couldn't remember what it was. Which was irritating.

An annoying buzzing filled the room and the mortal groaned before rolling over and pressing a button on top of the black box with the red numbers. He stared at it for a moment, then turned back to Loki and blinked at him a few time before sighing and rubbing at his eyes. "Morning, Loki."

"Good morning," Loki returned. Because that's what mortals did, he'd noticed.

The mortal smiled and got up. He was halfway to the dresser when he paused and glanced back at Loki. "Your clothing from yesterday was absolutely filthy. You can borrow some of my things, or we can look into getting–"

"I am capable of dressing myself without your assistance," Loki snapped, sitting up.

"Can't interact with humans," the mortal returned with a frown. "What do you do, steal clothing?"

"I am a god and it is my due–"

"Right. Forget I asked," the mortal muttered, turning back to his task of pulling out clothing from the drawers.

Loki sniffed behind him, unimpressed with the mortal's morals. Like it mattered what he stole; he didn't exist and no one knew what was happening, anyway.

"I'm at the gym for a few hours, then I've got filming the rest of the day. Or, well, I need to be on site and in costume; how much filming is going to happen is always up for debate," the mortal said as he set one outfit to the side and went, again, through his drawers. "You can come along, if you want, or stay here. Or do whatever you usually do during the day, just–" he looked over at Loki, expression troubled, "–let's avoid the 'getting drunk in an alley and hurting ourselves' today?"

"Do not presume to direct my actions, mortal," Loki warned.

The mortal shrugged and turned back to the clothing. "I'm not 'directing' anything. I just don't want to have to hunt you down again."

"I never–"

"Asked me. I got that. I'd do it anyway," the mortal informed him, turning and walking over to where Loki sat, staring at him in disbelief. "Here," he offered, holding out a set of clothing.

Loki snatched the clothing and retreated to the bathroom. Because the stupid mortal wasn't in there, watching him with sad eyes, making Loki _feel_ things. "I _hate_ mortals," he muttered and narrowed his eyes when he thought he heard a muffled laugh from outside the closed door.

Loki ended up following the mortal to his gym, partially because he was bribed with breakfast, partially because he had nothing else to do that day. It didn't take him long to discover that the mortal's name was, apparently, 'Tom'. "It's plebeian," he informed the mortal while he was working with one of his trainers. The mortal glanced towards him, frowning in confusion, but didn't ask for clarification or show any further interest in conversation and Loki stalked off in a huff.

The mortal found him about twenty minutes later, while Loki was snooping through paperwork in an office. "What's plebeian?" he requested before taking a long drink from a bottle.

"Your name."

"My– Tom?" the mortal replied dumbly. "Why are you suddenly–? Oh." He snorted and covered a grin when Loki glared at him. "You could have _asked_ my name if you forgot it."

"Silence," Loki ordered, pointing an angry finger at him. "Pick a new name."

"I'm not going to–"

"Or I can just call you as I please," Loki decided, already thinking up names he could use.

"Thomas," the mortal informed him and Loki raised an eyebrow. "My name – my _full_ name – is Thomas. Is that more to your tastes?"

Loki considered it for a moment before nodding. "It will suffice," he decided and turned back to the paperwork.

Thomas glanced down the empty hallway outside the office, then stepped fully inside. "What are you doing, anyway?"

"As though you expect me to give you an answer," Loki commented.

"I know better than to trust you," Thomas insisted, putting his hand down on the stack of papers Loki was leafing through.

Loki glared at the mortal for a long moment before sniffing. "I would know more of you."

Thomas glanced down at the papers, then shook his head. "You could _ask_."

"I am a _god_."

"I'm not sure what one has to do with the other," Thomas replied.

"Tom?" someone called from out in the hallway. "Are you down here?"

"You're best off trying a computer," Thomas suggested to Loki as he stepped away, back towards the door. "Or asking." Then he raised his voice. "Yeah, back here."

"What're you doing in there?"

"Thought I heard something. Sorry."

Loki glared down at the papers, then followed after the mortal. He didn't care for computers; they reminded him of the Man of Iron.

He did hunt down an unused office computer and looked through Thomas' files. There wasn't a lot there, honestly, and he eventually gave it up as a bad job, going to hunt down the obnoxious mortal.

Thomas greeted his return with a relieved look, and Loki was thrown by it until he realised the mortal was about to leave the building and hadn't known where Loki was to bring him along. He remained torn between gratitude that Thomas hadn't wanted to leave without him, and irritation at the inexplicable interest this mortal had in him.

Loki was more surprised that he should have been to discover that Thomas was acting as him in this film the Midgardians were working on. Watching Thomas walk out of the dressing rooms, Loki admitted, if only to himself, that the mortal managed very well in looking the part. When Thomas looked towards him for approval, Loki shrugged and offered, "It is a well-enough attempt. For mortals."

Thomas seemed to take that as Loki's whole-hearted approval, because he flashed the god a bright grin that was entirely out of place under falsely sunken eyes before moving over towards the mortal that was calling for him.

Loki got a number of shocks over the next few hours, finding all of the actors – or actresses – to be near perfect renditions of those Loki had fought against. The one that left him reeling the most, however, was the man who played Thor; when he'd come swaggering out of the dressing rooms, laughing at something one of the SHIELD personal had said, Loki had honestly thought him to be his brother, and had been halfway through calling his name before recognising his mistake. He'd felt immediately hollow and utterly alone, in a way that felt more like his first months on Midgard than the years since he'd resigned himself to his fate.

Unlike in the past, however, Loki wasn't alone; he was just thinking to leave and drown his sorrows in alcohol, when a warm hand wrapped around his wrist. "Hey," Thomas said, watching him with the same amount of concern that the mortal had shown when he'd found Loki in the alley.

"Go away," Loki snarled, in no mood to deal with this ridiculous mortal who wore his face.

Thomas' fingers tightened around Loki's wrist. "No," he returned, stubborn as anything.

And Loki...let him. Found it all too easy to stay next to this stupid mortal and take comfort in his worried eyes, the warmth of his fingers pressing against Loki's pulse. He let Thomas drag him back to the set, stayed at his side through the various takes. And if Loki kept Thomas between himself and the mortal playing Thor, Thomas wisely made no mention of it.

Back at the hotel that evening, Loki went after the dinner Thomas had ordered like a man starved – and he was, a bit – while the mortal ate sparingly over his computer.

Loki was just finishing the ordered cake – yellow with vanilla frosting, today – when Thomas asked, "Have you tried making an account on the internet? Facebook, or Twitter?"

"What use would such be to me?" Loki demanded.

Thomas sighed and turned his laptop around, sliding it across the bed towards Loki. "Does the spell on you only keep you from interacting with people in person, or would it keep them from communicating with you online, too? Say you posted a status on Twitter: Could people read and reply to it, or would the spell block their being able to find it?"

Loki blinked at him, then glanced down at the sign-up screen for something called 'Gmail'. "I am uncertain," he admitted, remembering blood left behind on walls that could make someone look for him and finger tracings on foggy mirrors that could spook mortals. "What is this?"

"Email," Thomas explained, shifting on the bed so he was seated next to Loki, able to look at the screen with him. "You need an email address to sign up for anything, and Gmail isn't too bad."

Thomas walked Loki through signing up for an email address, then creating accounts on Twitter and Facebook. He suggested Loki set himself up as something of a role-player, an account meant to act as a character and respond in a way that that character would to various questions.

"Since you _are_ Loki, it should be easy," Thomas commented as Loki looked through portrayals of himself for an icon. "Though, if you'd avoid spoiling anything that happened after you came through the Tesseract, I'd appreciate it. I mean, everything's based on the comics, but there are differences enough that someone will complain about spoilers."

"Comics?" Loki asked.

Thomas nodded and set about explaining the long history of Marvel Comics. Loki made a note to look into picking up some of these comics next time he happened by a shop that sold them.

"Oh, hey," Thomas interrupted himself at one point during a story about his favourite of the comics, "you have a follower."

Loki glanced back down at the forgotten screen in his lap and blinked to find that someone was 'following' his new account. Someone had seen him, had taken interest in him. "Blood on the wall," he murmured.

"Wait, what?" Thomas shot him that damnable concerned look. "Why blood?"

"Mortals notice blood," Loki replied absently as he went in search for something to respond to.

Thomas' fingers curled around the arm that Loki had cut the day before, smoothing over unblemished skin. "Let's stick with this way of getting noticed from now on?" he suggested sadly.

Loki snatched his arm away, scowling. "Stop touching me," he ordered. Because he could. And because he was getting tired of the pathetic eyes that Thomas did so well.

Thomas smiled then and wrapped his arms around Loki before the god could think he needed to escape. "Make me," he challenged.

Loki honestly considered shoving the mortal off the bed, but Thomas was warm and Loki still craved contact in a way that was, frankly, appalling. So he held himself stiff for about five minutes before resting against the mortal, who was again talking about comics. Thomas made no comment about Loki relaxing against him, but he did shift a bit to get more comfortable, talking all the while, and Loki thought he could almost get to like the idiot.

By the time Thomas insisted on their going to bed, Loki had made disparaging remarks about three different current events, answered two questions posed to him, and gained seven more followers.

For the first time in twenty-nine years, Loki felt good about the future.

-0-

Loki took to dragging Thomas' laptop with him when he followed the mortal during the day. Thomas seemed resigned to it, shaking his head with a helpless smile whenever he came across Loki curled in a corner or a stolen chair, laptop sat comfortably in his lap and typing away, insulting something or someone. After the first day, Thomas had pulled out a bag for the laptop, to keep it safe while it wasn't in use, and insisted that Loki either use it, or leave the laptop in the hotel.

After twenty-nine years observing humanity and holding his tongue – only because there was no way to communicate with them – Loki found a wonderful freedom in laying out his thoughts on any- and everything that caught his attention. His following wasn't massive – though it had grown when Thomas stole the laptop back at one point and followed Loki's account, quietly laughing over some of his 'tweets' – but it was some of the more enlightened minds of this world, from what conversations Loki had taken part in, and he found genuine pleasure in trading insults and discussing politics with them.

The only times Thomas insisted Loki leave the laptop behind were on his rare days off, when he dragged Loki out to nearby interests, talking about historical significance or natural beauty. Loki had been seconds from kicking the mortal and stalking back to the hotel in a huff, the first time, but he'd ended up enjoying himself; seeing this prison through the eyes of one who'd never seen the rest of the Nine Realms had been almost soothing, and he found himself nodding along with the mortal when he pointed to something of moderate beauty, able to appreciate it in a way he hadn't been able to while trudging along through the streets of Midgard alone.

The only time Loki absolutely refused to leave the hotel, was when Thomas had a day out with his co-workers. Thomas seemed to assume that Loki was still uncertain around the man who played his brother; while it was true that the mortal in question made Loki twitchy, it was more that Thomas wouldn't talk to him when other mortals were around, not wishing to appear insane to those he saw every day. Rather than pout where Thomas could see him and prank the other mortals, only to have Thomas give him a disapproving look that bothered Loki far more than it should have, Loki chose to remain in the hotel, taking his irritation and jealousy out on the internet.

Loki had been staying with Thomas for almost three months when the studio started packing up.

"We're done with the filming," Thomas explained to Loki's curious expression when he found the god in the empty corner he'd been curled up in. "The film still needs technical work, but most of us are free to move on. There's a party tonight, then I'm heading back to London."

Loki looked past the mortal at the crew taking things apart, the other actors and actresses helping where they could, or joking with fellows. He felt pathetic, but he had to ask, "And me?" Because he'd grown too fond of this stupid, stubborn mortal to just assume he was following along, and he knew Thomas had family and friends in England that he was looking forward to seeing again, that he had a life before Loki.

And, Norns, when had he grown so sentimental? It wasn't like he would be completely alone without Thomas, not now that he'd discovered Twitter. (And Facebook, although that last wasn't as interesting to him, beyond a couple of mind-numbing games he'd joined to pass the time when Thomas went out with his co-workers.) Stealing a laptop of his own would take only a bit of clever manoeuvring, and he wouldn't have to put up with the mortal's disapproving looks.

"I'm not kicking you out," Thomas reminded him and Loki fought the urge to breathe in relief, because he knew that, but he could never be sure how far the idiotic mortal would let him go before he refused to associate with Loki any further. "My flat's not big, but you're more than welcome to stay there. Unless you'd rather stay here?"

Loki sniffed. "And miss the chance to see more of Midgard?"

"And steal more of my things," Thomas added, but he was smiling as widely as Loki wanted to, like he'd been as afraid of losing Loki, as Loki was of losing him.

Loki avoided the party with the same jealous scowl that he'd worn while avoiding every other outing with his co-workers that Thomas went on. When Thomas got in late, Loki was curled up on the bed, around the laptop, and glaring at him.

"What?" Thomas complained, listing slightly. "I told you you could come."

"What interest would I have in a gathering of mortals?" Loki returned as he shifted on the bed so his back was to the mortal.

"Are you...jealous?" Thomas realised, stumbling over to the bed and landing, half reclined, at Loki's side.

"What reason have _I_ for so petty an emotion as–"

"You _are_." Thomas blinked up at Loki's scowl. "Why?" he asked, sounding so honestly confused that Loki wanted to hit him.

"You would _ignore_ me for them," Loki spat instead, because hitting Thomas was quite out of the question. (Loki might actually do serious damage to the idiot mortal without realising it.)

"Well, yes? They can't see you, and I don't really want anyone– Hey!"

Loki shoved the laptop away from him – only keeping it on the cushioned bed because of how much both Thomas and he treasured it – and pushed off the bed. He stalked out the room door, ignoring Thomas' startled squawking behind him. He desperately needed to see harm fall upon someone, and he feared that if he remained in that room, he would cause harm to the idiot mortal.

"Loki!" he heard shouted down the hall just before he slipped into the stairwell, not caring to wait for the lifts, which were notoriously slow. He was three floors down when he heard the door above him slam open and Thomas called, " _Loki_! Stop!"

Loki had no intention in stopping, had no interest in facing down the idiot while he was so angry. A mortal could see him, and _still_ he remained alone in a crowd. For fear of sanity. _Who **cares**?_ Loki wanted to shout. _Better thought insane than **alone**._ And Loki would know, for he'd been both.

Loki shoved out of the stairwell on the main floor, the door slamming against the wall, and stalked out into the main hall. He almost ran into a too-familiar blond, and it was only the lack of acknowledgement that told him this was his brother's mortal look-alike. He shied around the mortal and kept on towards the doors out.

The stairwell door slammed open again and the blond mortal startled at the noise. "What in the– Tom?"

"Loki!" Thomas shouted.

"Whoa! Hang on, mate," the blond called and Loki heard a minor scuffle, which had him glancing back over his shoulder as he pushed open the door out to the street.

Thomas had been grabbed by the blond and was trying to push him away, watching Loki with a well of terrible sadness that reminded Loki all too well of the first night Loki had passed through these very same doors. "Loki, _please_ ," Thomas called, helpless and maybe a little cracked at the edges.

"Mate, I think you've had too much to drink," the blond look-alike said, straining to support Thomas as the slighter mortal leaned towards Loki, one hand reaching for him.

"I'm not– I haven't– _No_!" Thomas snapped when Loki pushed the door open enough for him to slip out. Then, before Loki could completely move through the doorway, "I'm sorry! I didn't– It wasn't my intention to hurt you! Please don't– Don't leave because I've been ignoring you. Loki, _please_."

"Definitely too much to drink," Thor's look-alike decided. "Let's get you back upstairs."

"Chris, _stop it_ ," Thomas insisted, shoving at the blond. "Loki–"

"Tom, you're hallucina–"

"I'm _not_ ," Thomas insisted. "I'm not drunk, and I'm not hallucinating. Stop tugging at me. Loki's really here and– _Chris_." The last was a whine as Thomas lost his minimal purchase against the slick floor and the blond pulled him towards the lifts.

Loki stood for a moment in the doorway out, his anger bleeding out of him at Thomas' desperate plea and his attempts to get his friend to believe Loki was truly there. Oh, there was still some anger, but there was much less of it, and it was accompanied by an odd bubble of pleasure that Loki couldn't quite stamp out. He turned and followed the two mortals to the lifts, letting his exit swing silently shut behind him.

He caught up with the two mortals as one of the lifts fell open. "Idiot," he muttered at Thomas.

"Loki!" Thomas realised and grabbed him in a hug.

"Leech," Loki added, a familiar irritation mixed with fondness washing away the last of his anger at the mortal.

"Tom?" the blond mortal called, brow furrowed as he looked around the area. "Where did you go? Tom?"

Thomas frowned slightly and pulled away from Loki. "Chris?"

The blond jumped, eyes going wide. "Shit! How did you do that?"

"Do what?" Thomas returned.

Loki blinked, then reached out and grabbed the back of Thomas' neck. Because he was watching for it, he caught the moment the blond mortal went from looking _at_ Thomas, to looking _through_ him. "Brilliant," he breathed; he could turn Thomas invisible, just as he did with any inanimate object he was touching.

"Tom?" Thor's look-alike called, fear lacing his voice.

"Chris, what's wrong?" Thomas replied, moving forward to grab for the other's arm. Loki followed with him, keeping contact, and Thomas' hand shied away from the blond's arm, like magnets repelling. "What– Loki?" he whispered, turning to look over his shoulder at the god. "What have you done?"

"I can make you the same as me," Loki informed him, thinking of all the ways he could use this skill.

"What do you– Oh. No. No, no, no," Thomas insisted, ducking Loki's hand and ignoring the blond mortal when he jumped to find Thomas suddenly next to him. "I know that look. Whatever terrible idea you're concocting, no."

"It's not terrible," Loki promised smoothly, smiling.

"You're going to give someone a heart attack. No." Thomas startled when the blond mortal grabbed his shoulder. "Chris?"

"What the bloody hell is going on?" the blond demanded, shaky and eyes wide.

Thomas took a deep breath. "Loki is real, he's here, right now. I'm the only person who can see him, due to a spell Odin cast on him as punishment for the Chitauri," he got out in a rush of breath. "He just found out he can bring me onto his plane of existence by touching me. Sorry."

"...I'm drunk," the blond decided and Loki burst out laughing.

"Stop that," Thomas ordered Loki before turning to the blond. "Unless you've had another three pints in the past thirty minutes, you're not. This is all real."

"You _vanished_ ," the blond insisted, fingers flexing against Thomas' shoulder.

"Uh, yeah. I did. _No_ , Loki," he added, catching the smirk Loki wasn't bothering to hide.

"I am completely innocent," Loki promised, opening his hands as in benediction. He was quite glad he'd stayed, after all; this was far more calming and fun than getting drunk in an alley and taking his anger out on a rubbish heap. Or himself.

"The Chitauri never happened," Thor's look-alike commented, eyes flicking between Thomas and where the slighter mortal was frowning at Loki, as though by following Thomas' gaze, he might catch sight of the god.

"Alternate universe."

"Right." The blond blinked. "This is like a bad movie."

"You have no idea," Thomas replied drily.

"I can leave," Loki suggested, though the very idea of leaving was...horrible.

"No!" Thomas shouted and the blond at his side jerked in surprise. He quickly gentled his voice. "Sorry. Loki, no, don't– I'm _sorry_. Please don't leave, okay? Please?"

Loki stared at him for a long minute before sniffing. "You're making this up to me," he insisted.

"Yes," Thomas agreed. "And we're going to start with– Chris, you can't see him, but this is Loki, God of Mischief. He's been staying with me for the past three months, _always_ on my computer and occasionally stealing my pudding when I'm not looking." The blond snorted and Thomas' lips curled with a wry smile while Loki smirked. "Loki, Chris Hemsworth, a good friend and fellow actor. He plays your brother."

"And is a spitting image," Loki replied drily.

"I guessed as much," Thomas returned, then explained to the blond, "Loki says you look just like Thor."

"And he looks like you?" Thor's look-alike guessed.

"His hair's longer, but yes."

"So...should I be expecting to run into Thor in the future?" the blond asked, mouth twisted with concern.

"No," Thomas said as Loki shook his head. "No, it's just Loki."

The blond glanced towards Loki, squinting slightly, and Loki snorted at him. "Punishment?" he asked Thomas.

Thomas pressed his lips into a thin line of disapproval and nodded. "Odin sent him here, to our Earth, without the ability to interact with humans. He can see and hear us, but we can't see or hear him, and there's no physical contact at all."

"Except for you."

"Pretty much, yeah."

"For how long?"

Thomas blinked and looked towards Loki, because that's one question he'd never asked. "You said you've been here for twenty-nine years?" Thor's look-alike let out a sharp breath. "Yeah, that was pretty much my reaction, too."

Loki shrugged. "I am here for one hundred of your years."

"Oh, Loki..." Thomas whispered and took two steps away from the blond mortal to pull Loki into a hug.

"Stop it. Let me go. Now," Loki ordered, filling his voice with irritation even as he leaned into the contact.

"That is extremely disconcerting," Thor's look-alike commented, eyes moving uncertainly over the space where Loki and Thomas were.

Thomas reluctantly let Loki go and the god scowled at him, brushing a hand over his borrowed shirt, as though removing dirt. Thomas shook his head, sad amusement curling one side of his mouth before he turned to the blond mortal and said, "He's here for one hundred years, he says."

The blond's eyes widened. "One _hundred_ – Why would Odin–? Can I... Could I hug him?"

"What, like by touching me?" Thomas guessed, frowning.

"I do _not_ need _hugs_ ," Loki snapped.

"It's worth a try," Thomas decided and held out a hand for Thor's look-alike, which the blond took. "Everyone needs a hug; come here, Loki."

Loki scowled, but stepped over to take the hand Thomas held out to him, only for him to be repelled like he was by every other mortal. Panic flared, sharp and unexpected, in his gut, and he didn't even realise he had stumbled backwards until Thomas' fingers had wrapped around his wrist, steadying him, eyes wide.

"It's okay," Thomas promised as the panic faded, soothed by the contact. The blond was standing behind Thomas, again looking uncertain of where, exactly, they were, but no longer touching Thomas. "I've got you. Okay?"

Loki twisted his wrist in Thomas' grip and pressed his fingers against the mortal's pulse, further calmed by the steady thrum that he'd become familiar with from Thomas' stupid hugs during the day and the cuddling the mortal would initiate at night. After a long moment, Loki let go. "You may return to your...friend," he allowed stiffly.

Thomas considered him for a moment, reading far more from Loki's expression than the god was comfortable with, then nodded and let go. He smiled at Thor's look-alike. "Sorry. I think we might head up to bed."

"You have an early flight," the blond commented, nodding. "Is Loki going with you?"

"Yes."

"Good. " The blond smiled, apparently honestly pleased at that response. "Do you mind if I give you a ring when I get in?"

"Only if you remember to check the time," Thomas returned with the ring of an old joke, and Thor's look-alike laughed. "I'm sure I'll see you in a couple months."

"Yeah, probably," the blond agreed and they shared a quick hug, the blond whispering something to Thomas that made the slighter flash him a smile and nod.

Loki and Thomas stepped into a lift car, leaving Thor's look-alike to continue doing whatever he'd been doing in the lobby. Loki managed to hold his curiosity until they returned to the hotel room, then he demanded, "What did he say to you?"

Thomas smiled and pulled Loki into a surprisingly crushing hug, reminiscent of his youth, and Loki grabbed for the mortal's shirt, clinging to him a bit. "Chris wanted me to give you a hug," Thomas said. "From him _and_ Thor."

"Thor wouldn't care to give me a hug," Loki insisted, tightening his grip on Thomas' shirt when the mortal moved as if to let him go.

Thomas laughed against the hinge where Loki's jaw met his neck. "I bet he would."

"What would _you_ know of Thor?" Loki muttered.

"Absolutely nothing," Thomas returned, but to Loki, it sounded like, _'Absolutely everything.'_ And he thought that, maybe, Thomas might be speaking some truth; as Thomas could always so easily read Loki, Thor's look-alike might well be able to read the thunder god, having seen him or no, and Thomas' relationship with the blond actor was like the one Loki had once shared with Thor, before everything fell apart. If this 'Chris' thought Thor would wish to give a hug unto Loki, it might well be true, especially after twenty-nine years apart.

"Come on," Thomas interrupted. "We _do_ have an early flight to catch."

"Very well," Loki acquiesced and they finished getting ready for bed in the same pattern as they'd built up over the past months. When they climbed under the covers, however, it was Loki who curled against Thomas's back, rather than the other way around. Thomas shifted minutely until they were both comfortable, then dropped easily off to sleep. Loki followed soon after, soothed by the feel of steady breaths and the quiet thrum of a human heart under his fingers.

-0-

Loki liked London, he decided quickly enough. Thomas' flat was comfortable enough for the two of them, situated near enough to a commercial area to provide entertainment for Loki in the form of people to torment, but far enough that the noise didn't bother them. Thomas had also 'introduced' Loki to the members of his family that lived nearby and his agent, who had apparently already had suspicions, having heard from Thomas' driver about the 'imaginary friend' that he took out to see the sights and often bought lunch.

Loki was also introduced to an instant messenger and given Chris Hemsworth's screenname, at the actor's request. Loki found the man to be very like a younger, more studied version of Thor, and found himself having so many conversations with him that he never would have dared have with his brother, but had always wished he could.

"Now _I'm_ jealous," Thomas teased one afternoon while they were on site for another film – or 'series of plays adapted for television', as Thomas corrected any time Loki called it a film. "You've gone and stolen my best mate."

"God's prerogative," Loki retorted with a sniff.

Thomas laughed and curled up next to him on the couch, fingers wrapped around a steaming mug. "What are you two talking about today?"

"Crocodiles," Loki replied promptly, because they had been speaking of the reptiles about twenty minutes ago, before Chris had been distracted by his wife for something. He'd not returned yet, but Loki was patient enough for such interruptions and had been looking through Twitter to pass the time.

"You two..." Thomas said with a laugh. "Wasn't it kangaroos last week?"

"Kangaroos are noble creatures," Loki replied stiffly.

Thomas chuckled against Loki's shoulder, his reddish hair tickling Loki's ear and jaw in a manner that had become more and more familiar as the months grew colder. (Thomas sometimes made comments as to the sorrows of the other actors, that they didn't have a Loki in their trailer to act as a heater after a day in the icy winds. Loki still wasn't sure why Thomas thought him at all warm, given his Jötun heritage, but it seemed he was warm enough for the mortal.) "You know," the mortal said, "looking at your face some days, I'd think you were talking about far more serious things than animals of the outback."

"Three of my children retain an animal shape; animals are quite serious," Loki defended. Though, in truth, he and Chris spoke often of more – as Thomas would say – 'serious' matters, such as becoming a father for the first time, the joys of pregnancies for both genders, and relationships in general.

"Okay, okay. Sorry," Thomas said from behind his mug. "I'm cold."

Loki took a moment to locate the blanket they kept on the couch – it had fallen over the arm next to him and pooled innocently on the floor, out of sight – then passed it over to the mortal, taking his mug so Thomas could get situated. Once he'd handed the mug back, he returned to Twitter while Thomas sipped at his tea.

Thomas had finished the mug, set it to the floor, and was dozing against Loki's shoulder by the time Chris returned. He made his usual apologies, which Loki brushed off, then asked, **'Is Tom in yet?'**

**'He is asleep on my shoulder. Have you need of him?'**

**'Nothing that can't wait a day or two,'** Chris replied. Then, **'He's sleeping on your shoulder?'**

**'Yes. It is cold, he insists I am as a heater.'**

**'...right.'**

Loki narrowed his eyes. **'You are not well practised in mystery.'**

**'LOL That wasn't mystery, Lo. It's just, Tom's tactile, but I've never known him to fall asleep on anyone. And I know he thinks you need a million hugs, and you do don't get me wrong, but he's always cuddling up with you and such.'**

Loki brushed a hand over the keyboard, ridding it of some fuzz from the blanket-wrapped form at his side. Where he would have ignored Thor, had he made a similar comment, he found himself typing out, **'Is this a...poor thing?'**

**'I would suppose that depends on your feelings,'** Chris typed, mysterious in spite of his lack in the area.

**'You would do well to explain yourself, lest I send you something less than pleasant through the post,'** Loki threatened.

**'Oh? Is Lo planning to learn how to navigate the postal system?'** Chris teased.

**'Hemsworth,'** Loki sent before the idiot mortal could further mock him. And _why_ Chris thought mocking a god was good fun was completely beyond him.

**'LOL Sorry. Okay. How do your people...court, I guess? Yeah, how do you court? Or show interest in courting.'**

Loki grimaced.

**'Asgardians, Lo,'** Chris clarified, and Loki was beginning to suspect that he was just becoming easy to read.

**'The initiator would approach the family of their chosen to request permission for the courting. With that permission, they would pronounce their interest to their chosen and, should they also approve, would begin in giving gifts.'**

**'What if the chosen doesn't have a family?'** Chris asked.

Loki frowned. **'Such has never occurred in Asgard.'** Æsir were long-lived, and never had one been left without a family member to turn to, not even with the many wars they created with other species for sport or because of an old claim let fall to the wayside.

Chris typed no further for so long that Loki wondered if he'd been called away again, before he sent, **'On Earth, we don't usually involve family unless one or both parties are under the legal age of consent.'**

**'As intriguing as this lesson in Midgardian culture is, has it a point?'** Loki demanded. There was an uncertain feeling bubbling in his stomach, the urge to close the laptop like a physical need tingling along his fingers. And he was afraid, of words yet un-typed scrawling across his screen, of change in a world that had only just turned level, of losing something he wasn't even sure he had.

And Thomas breathed, warm at his side, the thrum of his heart a steady promise resonating through every point of contact between them.

**'I can't speak for Tom so please don't think I am but you're important to him. He's important to you. You two are always talking about each other, Like how I talk about Elsa.'**

Loki snorted. **'Oh, yes. As though Thomas would feel anything but irritation towards me.'**

**'You give him too little credit. And what does that say about me? I don't think you're irritating, and you're always calling me 'idiot' and threatening me.'**

And this was safe, this teasing, and Loki grabbed for it. **'You ARE an idiot. And I've plans for when next we meet.'**

**'Oh. Great. Run these plans by Tom yet? Cause you know what he said LAST time you pranked someone.'**

**'I have no knowledge of such event. You are hallucinating.'**

**'Not working, good try.'**

Thomas shifted at Loki's side, rubbing at his eyes, and Loki slammed the laptop shut, as though to hide his conversation with his brother's look-alike. "Loki?" Thomas mumbled. "Time?"

Loki glanced towards a clock on the far side of the trailer. "Nearly seven. You would do well to eat."

"Yeah." Thomas sighed, breath gusting against Loki's throat like a promise.

The god silently cursed Chris for putting such unbecoming thoughts in his mind and pushed away from the couch, smirking when Thomas let out a surprised sound and tumbled sideways. "Hemsworth had wish to speak with you," he commented as he stepped into the small kitchen area.

Thomas didn't bother sitting back up, just felt around under the blanket for the pocket he'd shoved his mobile in. "Chris?" he said once he'd dialled the number and the other end had picked up. "Loki said you wanted to talk?" He was silent for a moment before glancing down at the abandoned laptop's closed cover, then to where Loki worked in the kitchen. "He's making us dinner."

" _You_ dinner," Loki insisted, because he wasn't certain he was hungry, the way his stomach was still reeling from Chris' words.

"Uh-huh. _Both of us_ , Loki. Shut up, Chris," he added to the phone, then called out, "You're still too thin; we've talked about this."

Loki sniffed and pointedly turned his back on the mortal, earning a laugh from Thomas before he returned his attention to his call.

Thomas and Chris spoke for the time it took Loki to throw together a pasta salad, keeping to discussions of their _The Avengers_ tours – which would begin in but a couple months – so far as the god could tell from the single side of the conversation he could hear. (Loki and Thomas had already spoken of the tours, the mortal making it clear that if Loki intended to come along, he would behave himself as he was expected to do on set. Thomas had no interest in letting the whole of the world know that he was living with the true Loki, and Loki had become comfortable enough in his little niche to take none of the offence that he had felt during the three months after they'd first met; being introduced to Chris and others in Thomas' life had soothed much of Loki's hurt, and his growing popularity on Twitter as the opening date approached had eased the rest.)

Over dinner, Loki fell back into the same flow of conversation he usually partook of with Thomas, casting Chris' words from his mind as he sneered at the antics of the other actors on site with them and mocked some stupidity that had popped up on Twitter that afternoon, while Thomas had been working.

It was easy until they climbed into the bed and Thomas pressed against Loki's back. Loki tensed and Thomas was suddenly still, arm not quite draped fully against Loki's side, and asked, "Loki? What's wrong?"

Loki remembered excuses for why he should share Thomas' bed once they arrived in London, why he shouldn't sleep on the couch with the pull-out, why getting a hotel room with two beds instead of one was too much trouble. "What are we?" he demanded.

"What...? I'm not sure I–"

Loki grabbed the arm hovering against his side and pulled Thomas' hand up, held it tight over his heart, as though it might help calm its racing. "This," he declared, as though it should be all the clarification needed. Then, because Thomas was mortal and never quite as quick as Loki, for all that he was clever in his own right, Loki clarified, "This contact that you insist on, this refusal to allow me my own space to sleep, curling against me on the couch when I cannot be warm, forcing me to eat, including me in everything..." Loki pulled his knees up, curling around the hand pressed over his heart. "Why?" he breathed, a plea and a prayer.

Thomas curled closer, a line of warmth tracing his spine, curling around his buttocks and pressing against the back of his thighs and calves. "I told you," he whispered against Loki's ear, "no one deserves to be alone."

"I wouldn't be," Loki admitted, because he had ways to speak with others, now, ways to interact that Thomas had given him. He would have them whether he remained in Thomas' home or returned again to the streets, for all that it would be less than now. He would miss the thrum of a mortal heart against his skin, the line of warmth that told him more surely than blood pooling from his wrists ever could that he was real, that he existed.

Thomas swallowed, the bob of his Adam's apple sliding over Loki's shoulder. "I would," he whispered, fingers curling against Loki's chest. Loki's fingers, pressed tight against the back of Thomas' hand, slipped through parted fingers and Thomas' fingers tightened against them, holding them in place as though afraid Loki would pull away. "I hadn't even realised how alone I was until you were always there." His heart thrummed, loud and afraid against Loki's back, stringing through their entwined fingers and whispering apologies just under Loki's own heart, where the mortal's wrist pressed tight against his shirt. "You can– We can look for a bigger flat, get you your own room. And I can stop–" Thomas choked on his words as Loki lifted his hand up and away from his chest. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sor–"

"Silence," Loki ordered, bringing Thomas' palm up to his mouth and pressing a kiss against the mortal's wrist.

Thomas' fingers twitched between Loki's, then the mortal breathed relief against Loki's ear and turned to press his lips against the side of the god's throat. "Sorry," he whispered.

"Silence," Loki ordered again, returning their entwined fingers to their place over his heart. "Go to sleep, you idiotic human," he added and Thomas breathed a laugh against his neck.

-0-

Loki woke to Thomas' alarm, an obnoxious sound that he'd long grown used to dragging him from sleep. Thomas shifted behind him, pressing the button to turn the noise off, then returned to Loki's back, arm curling around his side and against his abdomen. Loki caught the mortal's hand in his and pulled it up to press over his heart, soothed by the thrum of Thomas' pulse through his shirt.

Thomas stilled for a moment before relaxing against Loki's back, chin coming to relax against Loki's shoulder. "Good morning," he breathed, warm against Loki's jaw line.

"Good morning," Loki murmured in return and they remained curled together for a good ten minutes more.

Thomas finally jerked away. "Awake," he insisted, rolling out of the bed in the other direction.

Loki sighed at the lack of warmth, but pushed up from the mattress himself. He watched as Thomas collected clothing, thinking over the changes the evening had brought. Assuming anything had truly changed. Yes, their attachment to each other was in the open now, their need to remain in contact clear between them, but that had no bearing on their actions.

_'Or, it shouldn't,'_ Loki thought, watching as Thomas stripped off his shirt in the same familiar motion that he'd seen hundreds of times. It felt different, though, more intimate. Loki wanted to touch the mortal's skin, map out the scars that would never show on his own skin. He wanted to feel Thomas' pulse against his fingertips, no clothing in the way. He _wanted_ , and it was terrifying and thrilling and so _new_ , this wish to touch, to press skin-to-skin under the covers and forget hours and days cocooned in warmth and the thrumming that promised companionship as much as it did life.

A marriage of convenience and centuries of using attraction as both weapon and tool had not prepared Loki for true interest in another being.

"Loki?" Thomas called, glancing back at the god with concern in his eyes.

"I am...uncertain how to continue," Loki admitted. Because Thomas hadn't seen him at his worst, but he'd seen him pretty low, and had never thought to make fun of the god for his lack of understanding or certainty about something; if there was one person that Loki trusted to never let him down – so long as Thomas could avoid it – it was this stupid, stubborn mortal. It was, perhaps, the reason that someone with but a century to live could catch the eye of one who counted his life in centuries.

Thomas frowned, uncertain, before his thoughts sifted through Loki's words and discovered his meaning. "Oh. About...us..." He winced and brushed a hand through his hair. "I don't really know. I mean, how much has changed?"

"Nothing," Loki said.

_'Everything,'_ lay silent between them.

Thomas set the trousers he'd been about to change into on the corner of the bed, then climbed over to Loki. "Come here," he directed and Loki let himself be pulled into the mortal's arms, the thrum of Thomas' heart loud and soothing in his ear where it pressed against his chest. "If I've learned anything," Thomas murmured, his voice reverberating in his chest, twining with his heartbeat in a way that seemed entirely too pleasing to Loki, "it's that relationships weren't meant to be easy, no matter the base we start them from. And this is, by no means, a normal sort of relationship–"

"Yes," Loki drawled, because he could. "I am a _god_."

"Generally considered to be a myth," Thomas agreed, resigned to Loki's complex in a way that one could be only after months of listening to someone call themselves a god and mean it. "And you're not really easily accessible to the general populace."

Loki scowled and pressed closer against the mortal, as though to hide from that particular truth of his current nature.

Thomas tightened his arms around the god, comforting and apologetic. "And there's the narcissistic aspect."

Loki snorted and pulled back to meet the mortal's eyes. "This is not a problem for me," he informed the other.

"Why not? God?" Thomas suggested, just a little mocking.

Loki sniffed. "I have slept with myself before; this is but a poor substitute."

"You–" Thomas blinked. "You slept with a clone," he stated, expression caught somewhere between horrified and amused.

"I was curious," Loki replied, unashamed. It had been an interesting experiment, though not one he would likely repeat, after how exhausted it left him.

Thomas sucked at his lip, in the way he did sometimes when he was trying not to laugh. "Of course you did," he managed in a fairly even tone.

Loki's mouth turned with mischief and he said, "I also kissed myself in the throne room. Just for the reactions."

Thomas let out a laugh and covered his face with his hands.

"Fandral's will always be my favourite," Loki mused. "He looked rather torn between horrified that I might do such a thing in public, and wishing he'd thought to do it first."

"You're absolutely dreadful," Thomas informed him, smiling behind his fingers, eyes bright with a fondness that warmed Loki in a way that little did.

"I am," Loki agreed, reaching forward and tugging Thomas' hand away from the curve of his lips. "Would you see how dreadful?"

"I already know," Thomas assured him, leaning forward.

Loki met him partway and their lips met with a tingle like magic, but not. And Loki pressed tight against the mortal, looking again for the familiar sensation that he'd spent so long without. He found it in the stroke of Thomas' tongue against his, in the touch of fingers over skin, in the drag of teeth against his throat.

"I'm going to miss my run," Thomas breathed into Loki's ear, warm and so very _real_.

"Stay," Loki replied, brushing his fingers over Thomas' spine, and if his words were more plea than demand, he wasn't much inclined to care at the moment.

"Yes," Thomas promised and let Loki pull him down to the pillows.

They finally made their way to the main part of the trailer some time later, Thomas hurrying for food before his call and Loki languid and pleased. "Eat something," Thomas ordered as he readied his travel mug, the teapot already heating on the stove and the toaster humming with bread.

Loki sighed from the couch, laptop balanced on his stomach and chiming as it woke up. "I will," he promised. And he would, because the mortal was entirely too difficult when he discovered that Loki had skipped a meal.

Thomas finished making his tea and butter and jam sandwich, then stopped next to the couch. "Go. Before you forget," he insisted, pressing a kiss to Loki's forehead.

Loki caught the mortal's chin and leaned up for a proper kiss, lips tingling with that brush of not-quite-magic. "Very well," he agreed, pushing the laptop to one side.

Thomas gifted him with a bright smile, then hurried from the trailer.

The morning was quiet, Loki amusing himself by taunting Chris until the mortal left him for bed, then moving on to trolling Twitter. He was forced to leave the laptop aside when Thomas returned for lunch, frowning at Loki until the god made himself something, then stealing the laptop while Loki ate.

When Thomas returned to his filming, Loki found that the mortal had updated his Twitter: **'Song of the Day: "Friday, I'm In Love", by The Cure.'**

Loki smiled and quickly wrote back, **'What's this? A GOOD song for once? Did you have to steal someone's iPod?'**

A few fans quickly told Loki off for being an arse, insisting that Thomas had _excellent_ taste in music. It wasn't until about an hour later that Thomas replied, **'Borrowed your brother's.'**

**'Thor doesn't have an iPod. You would do well to return my musical device. Immediately.'**

**'Right,'** Thomas sent. Then, a moment later, **'Do you want me to wipe off the horse drool first, or...?'**

Loki had a long laugh, then posted to his followers, **'Apologies, my army; this mortal I would see to without your assistance.[@twhiddleson](https://twitter.com/twhiddleston)'** Expectedly, a number complained, but most of his followers were capable of understanding a joke and favourited his comment, or made suggestions for 'torture' methods he might use. Loki left them to it and crept outside to hunt down Thomas.

The mortal was, in fact, working with a couple horses, but he spared a grin for Loki when he spotted him picking an abandoned chair to occupy. Loki remained outside for the rest of the afternoon, occasionally leaving his stolen chair to misplace a prop or turn Thomas invisible to mortal eyes for a couple minutes. Thomas seemed torn between amusement and an odd sort of resigned irritation as they made their way back to the trailer, murmuring, "We get so much more done when you stay hidden."

"Less the amusement," Loki insisted and Thomas snorted behind his hand.

They entered their trailer and Thomas claimed the laptop, demanding, "Make me tea."

Loki snorted and did so, even though gods didn't make tea. But, then, gods didn't spend their days with mortals, or argue music tastes over the internet, either.

"Speak truly," Loki ordered as he settled on the couch next to the mortal, handing over the tea, "I am not warm."

Thomas flashed him a smile from behind his mug. "Some days, you're a bit warmer than it's been outside. But, no, generally you're no warmer than the outdoors. 'S why I always insist on tea."

There was little Loki could do about his own body temperature, but he could and did hunt down the fallen blanket to drape around Thomas before resting comfortably at his side, watching as the mortal shifted through his email.

"Here," Thomas said at last, passing the laptop over to Loki. He set his mug to the ground and curled against Loki's side, the blanket wrapped loosely around him. "Wake me in a couple hours?"

Loki glanced at the time. "Certainly."

Thomas pressed a kiss to Loki's jaw and rested his head against Loki's shoulder, breath easing as he dozed off. Loki waited until Thomas' breathing and heart had slowed to the rhythm they occupied while he slept, then turned and pressed a kiss against light hair.

With seventy more years to go – and the terrible certainty that at least some of those years would again find him alone, given how long mortals lived – it seemed odd that Loki would be content with his sentence. But with warmth curling against his side, the thrum of a heart that loved him beating next to his skin, and the tingle of not-quite-magic breathed against his throat, Loki found he was.

**Author's Note:**

> I...don't like this ending. Really. Ugh. But this was the best place to end this monster fic, and anything additional I added just rang...fake. So, here. Right.
> 
> This fic is the first of a series, if you didn't catch that at the top. I have another plotline that I could have, maybe, got in here, but a fair bit of time is going to pass first, and I realised it was better to just write a sequel than have a huge time-skip, or make up more little scenes between bits of plot. Especially since I have a quick little one-shot from Chris Hemsworth's PoV that takes place between the end of this fic and the start of the next. (Need to watch a couple interviews with him before I write it, though. OMG. Writing him for this fic was _so hard_ , because I know his voice less than I know Tom's. And, Merlin, I fail at Tom's voice. I do, shut up, don't lie.)  
> So, Chris Hemsworth one-shot should pop up next, then the sequel. Neither have titles right now, though. Sorry.
> 
> I'm out.  
> ~Bats ^.^x

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Half-Dozen Blues](https://archiveofourown.org/works/588504) by [twoandfour](https://archiveofourown.org/users/twoandfour/pseuds/twoandfour)
  * [All for Love of One](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1007858) by [LexaSmex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/LexaSmex/pseuds/LexaSmex)
  * [Salvation](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3242639) by [Janie94](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janie94/pseuds/Janie94)




End file.
